


Eidolon

by zeest



Category: Samurai Warriors
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-29
Updated: 2012-03-29
Packaged: 2017-11-02 16:41:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/371168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeest/pseuds/zeest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haunting happens in many ways.</p><p>Note 27/08/2012: ohmygod I didn't notice that the last few lines of the fic were missed out when I posted this. I don't know how that could have happened, I'm sure I would have at least checked the fic after it was posted... Anyway, updated with the complete thing now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eidolon

Kanbei first noticed it at Anegawa. In the midst of battle, he saw Hanbei looking at the fallen Nagamasa, his eyes dark with sorrow, guilt and what Kanbei, a few days later, finally realised was envy. 

Those who live with one foot in the grave are more particular about how they die.

 

“You are ill,” Kanbei said without preamble, two months later after they had received fresh orders to march. 

Hanbei looked at him questioningly, and then laughed. “Of the two of us, I bet you’re the one people would say is ill.”

“’You shouldn’t judge a person based on their appearance’, isn’t that what you always say?” In the bright sunlight of the castle courtyard, Kanbei watched as Hanbei’s eyes grew distant, guarded.

“I can’t hide it from you after all.” Hanbei sighed heavily, and then peered up at him, a catlike smile on his face. “Are you asking because you care, Lord Kanbei?”

Kanbei frowned and continued walking, pushing past Hanbei. “A general who is ill is a liability to the army. Precautions are necessary.”

Hanbei pouted. “Even if you try to leave me behind, Lord Hideyoshi will bring me along,” he called out after Kanbei.

 _Because you are his strategist, and therefore his weapon_ , Kanbei thought but he held his peace, not wishing to examine his own motives.

 

 _Perhaps dead men share a kinship with one another_ , Kanbei thought, as he watched Hanbei argue with Nobunaga. He was too far to hear the words exchanged but he could guess the point of contention, reading Hanbei’s gestures and angry expression as easily as the Oda riflemen had gunned down the Takeda army just the day before.

It was a stunningly effective tactic, he had to admit. Calculated for maximum destruction with minimum waste, he wasn’t sure anyone other than Nobunaga could have put such a plan into action. Valour or cowardice, honour or foolishness; such qualities were worthless in the face of the barrage of shots, something Hanbei was foolishly objecting to.

He saw Hanbei collapse on the ground, shoulders shaking in uncontrollable spasms and then looked up to see Nobunaga staring right at him. The dark, intense eyes held his gaze, the lord’s indomitable will commanding his attention even at such a distance. Nobunaga nodded imperceptibly, and then turned to leave. Kanbei let out a breath he didn’t realise he had been holding and went to Hanbei’s side.

“The gunpowder is a little thick, isn’t it, Lord Kanbei?” Hanbei said weakly, as Kanbei silently offered him a supporting arm. “I knew those rifles were bad news.”

“Unnecessary sentiments are a hindrance,” Kanbei began to say, but the bugles sounded out and the whole camp came to life, groups dispersing and forming according to Nobunaga’s will, and there was no more time for talk.

 

Hanbei hid all signs of his illness with cheerful smiles and clever, distracting words, which was how Kanbei knew for sure that Hanbei had long been aware of his own fate. Kanbei himself made no mention of it, even when Hanbei insisted on leading the troops into the battlefield despite Hideyoshi’s requests that he stayed back at the camp. It was not his place to prevent someone from dying on the battlefield if they wished to.

In return, Hanbei never questioned Kanbei when Kanbei sat by his bedside on the nights when the miasma in his chest threatened to choke him, ever ready with medicinal brews to soothe his coughs and clean cloths when he tried in vain to expel the sickness from his body.

And so they proceed, the years marked by the shifting of the borders and the increasing number of sleepless nights.

 

Motonari was no fool and Kanbei had to admit, however grudgingly, that his strategies were admirable. There was something beautiful about this battle, their advances and retreats as calculated as any sword dance, every inch of sea land furiously fought for. It was almost _exhilarating_.

The role of the decoy was supposed to be the more dangerous one but Kanbei was not surprised, but a little exasperated, to see Hanbei already in the thick of the battle on the Mouri’s main warship by the time he had turned his army around.

“I want to see the world Lord Hideyoshi is going to create.”

Hanbei’s voice floated over the salty blood-tinged sea air, faintly audible in the temporary lull in the battle. 

“He wants to create a world where everyone is happy. So, what do you say? Why continue this fight?”

Motonari appeared to consider it for a moment, his crossbow pointed downwards in a deceptively relaxed pose as he spoke. “They said that victory in a game of shougi depends on how many moves ahead you can read, and the movements of the pawns are as likely to be deceive as they are to lead.” His hair fell in shaggy waves as he shook his head. “I cannot help but feel that there are many more moves to be made before this game ends.”

“So distrustful! You remind me of someone I know,” Hanbei said, the blades on his weapon beginning to spin again.

“Perhaps that person has good reasons to be distrustful.” Motonari raised one hand and signalled, and the Mouri troops that had remained hidden until then showed themselves with a great roar that drowned out Hanbei’s reply. Not that it mattered. It was time to fight.

 

“Hanbei.”

“I’m injured! I don’t need to be working. Or thinking. Let me sleep,” Hanbei said, drawing the covers up to his nose and keeping his eyes steadfastly shut.

Kanbei stayed silent. Hanbei kept his eyes closed and remained stubbornly still, letting the silence drag out until he grudgingly opened one eye and said, “I can’t sleep if you’re sitting there and watching me. It’s creepy.”

“So says the person who has no problems sleeping on rooftops.”

“It’s more peaceful there,” Hanbei said huffily. He closed his eyes again and pointedly turned his head away from Kanbei.

“The world Lord Hideyoshi wants to create… Is that what you’re fighting for?”

“Why not? A world where everyone can be happy. I’m sure no one will disturb me when I’m taking my _well-earned_ rest in a world like that.” Hanbei turned back to look at Kanbei. “Ah, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking ‘If it’s up to me, I can ensure that Lord Hideyoshi overthrows Nobunaga and wins every war, thus achieving his goal in the quickest time possible. But if Hanbei’s wish is granted, there’s nothing to stop him from dying.’” He stretched out one hand and patted Kanbei’s knee consolingly. “You’re so considerate, Kanbei.”

An exasperated sigh escaped Kanbei. “The drugs are addling your brain. Rest.”

He stayed until he was sure Hanbei was really asleep, thankful that Hanbei’s injuries had at least allowed him to fall asleep quickly.

 

With each territory expansion, the soldiers marched further away from their homes and the figure of authority that was Nobunaga grew more distant still. There was an understanding - but not a saying, that would be asking for trouble – that they have more in common with the foot soldiers of different colours on the battlefield than with the governors sitting warm and comfortable in the castle far, far away.

Thus, when they finally defeated the Mouri in Chuugoku, Hanbei thought nothing of extending the olive branch and forming, in his words, the union of the most brilliant strategists in the land.

Motonari had invited them to dine together in honour of the treaty that would bring peace to this corner of the land and just like that, they had crossed the border once so fiercely contended and, as honoured guests, stepped into the home of the great lord whose head they had promised Hideyoshi.

For all that he had questioned and deliberated over every point of the treaty, Motonari proved frustratingly eager to support Hanbei’s farfetched dreams. _A pair of fools dancing on death’s door_ , Kanbei thought sourly as he nursed a cup of wine. The noise was giving him a headache and he cursed Hanbei for dragging him along. He was a strategist, not a diplomat.

The Mouri retainers and Motonari’s sons were more sensibly wary of them but Hanbei turned out to be a far more engaging if less moralistic storyteller than Motonari, and liquor was the last stone in the bridge between the men of both camps.

“Lord Hideyoshi wants to create a world where everyone can sleep happily,” Hanbei was informing a group of Mouri retainers. “Doesn’t that sound wonderful? Lord Kanbei and I both want to see his dream realised. Lord Motonari has agreed to help us too! Surely the goal can’t be far off now, right, Lord Kanbei?”

“There are as many dreamers as there are heroes in this world,” Kanbei said and perhaps the liquor was getting to him because the words left his mouth before he could stop them. “You won’t be alive to see that world.”

There was a round of gasps from the lords and an awkward silence descended. Hanbei regarded Kanbei with sober eyes, then his face split into a wide grin as he lifted a flask. “Aww, Lord Kanbei, you’re so cold. Here, drink up, we don’t want you feeling left behind now, do we?” The wine sloshed carelessly into the shallow cup but Hanbei seemed not to care as he whirled around to face the room. “Lord Kanbei’s right. So, we better hurry up or you guys won’t get the benefit of my advice. Ahhh, what a pain. Looks like I have to hold off on dying for now.” He hopped from lord to lord, filling their cups to the brim with wine. “Drink up, drink up! It’s not my funeral yet.”

“Though,” he said thoughtfully later, leaning unsteadily against Kanbei, his words slurred more from fatigue than from the liquor. “I definitely want good wine served at my funeral. You better make sure of that or I’ll come back to haunt you, Kanbei.”

 

_”I’ll be the light that watches over you.”_

The next time he sat by Hanbei’s bedside was also the last.

He didn’t actually get to specify the wine served at Hanbei’s funeral. Hideyoshi took over the preparations, making a show of mourning the loss of his trusted and valuable strategist. It was almost a mockery, Kanbei thought, but at least Hideyoshi was willing to splurge on the props, including the wine. Hanbei would probably enjoy the show.

Motonari had died a mere handful of years ago. Nobunaga followed suit three years later. Across the land, in decimated villages and looted castles, the fires of war blazed ever higher.

 

Perhaps it was a form of haunting after all, the way Hanbei kept intruding in his thoughts. At Yamazaki, he felt accusing eyes on him as Hideyoshi ordered the pursuit of Akechi Mitsuhide, and later thought he saw a flash of blue and white among the troops picking through the remnants of the Akechi men. At Kyuushuu, a familiar chuckle startled him more than the Shimazu’s engineered landslides had. When he received news of the fall of the Houjou, the last holdout against the Toyotomi empire, he saw in his mind Hanbei sighing in relief and satisfaction.

It was with a bittersweet feeling of validation that he received Hideyoshi’s orders to set sail to wage even more war on foreign lands.

 

 _”The land only needs one hero.”_

But heroes do not last forever. Now that Hideyoshi was dead, the land needed a new one.

It was the height of summer but the sky was overcast, the clouds heavy with their unshed burden and the air stiflingly humid. When it rained, it would storm. From the window of the war planning room of the castle, Osaka Castle was visible at a distance, far enough that it looked as though it would fit on the palm of his hand.

Kanbei’s gaze swept over the map and the wooden counters strewn all over it, each piece of wood determining the fate of thousands of men. Only a handful of loyalists defended the castle and by the time the seasons changed, none should remain. He could almost hear Hanbei’s voice saying, _”The casualty count is a little high don’t you think, Lord Kanbei?”_

“A necessary sacrifice,” Kanbei said softly. He looked up from the map. Perched on the windowsill was a familiar and dreaded figure.

“Someone I know once said, ‘Buddha’s lies are pedagogies, the general’s lies --”

“-- are strategies, and woe to those who are commoners’.“ Kanbei resolutely kept his eyes on a spot in the air somewhere to the side of Hanbei. Who wasn’t really there, he reminded himself, even if he couldn’t stop himself from replying. “They sealed their own fate when they picked their side.”

“If only everyone were as pragmatic as you, Kanbei,” Hanbei said lightly but he regarded Kanbei with grave eyes, his worried frown and stubborn tone mirroring Kanbei’s memories from years ago. “Surely there has to be a better way.”

Kanbei flung out his arm in a futile attempt to erase the figure from his vision. His sleeve swept across the table and the wooden counters clattered onto the floor. “This is the world where everyone can be happy, Hanbei. This is the world you wanted to see.”

“So cynical! I guess some things never change.”

Despite his heavy robes, Kanbei felt a chill as Hanbei drew near him, as light-footed in death as he was in life. “The world you wanted was a dream. As are you.”

Hanbei looked up at him and smiled. "So who's the one dreaming?"

Kanbei startled as a flash of light blinded him. The crashing thunder followed a split second later, seeming to shake the very foundations of the castle. When the world returned to normal, the room was empty. The rushing sound of water hitting the tiles and pouring down the eaves filled the silence; it had begun to rain.

_”And if it rains?”_

Kanbei turned back to the window. In the distance, backlit by the constant lightning, Osaka Castle looked like it was burning.

Perhaps it was time for him to create the world he dreamt of.

**Author's Note:**

> The quote 'Buddha's lies are pedagogies, the general's lies are strategies, and woe to those who are commoners' is a very loose and probably inaccurate translation of the phrase「仏の嘘を方便と言い、武士の嘘を武略と言う、百姓は可愛きことなり」, attributed to Akechi Mitsuhide. It's probably more correct to say that the phrase I used in this fic was inspired by it.


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